The Secret is in the Telling
by saradelovely
Summary: AN: Part 1 of 10 -- AU Rachel and Puck in the corporate world. A little of this, a little of that. Very very light on the angst - I'm aiming for a thriller so we'll see how that goes.


AN: Part 1 of 10 -- AU Rachel and Puck in the corporate world. They were not friends in high school, nor did they know each other. They only know of each other now since they run in the same business circles. Very very light on the angst - I'm aiming for a thriller so we'll see how that goes.

The corporation is floundering, Rachel Berry admitted to herself. She had ignored the reality of the situation for quite some time now, several months in fact. She had assumed, wrongly assumed, that with enough time, all would revert to normal. However, now, the stark reality of the situation was catching up to her, overwhelming her until she could no longer disregard what was happening. Her corporation, the baby of her life, was struggling for survival. It had been bleeding money for months, losing rather than gaining profit. Originally designed to cater to various entertainment clientele, the corporation had sunk its claws into various other industries, expanding and expanding until many of her competitors had run out of business. Time had named her the new wunderkind at thirty, describing her with the aptitude and potential to go far. Two years later, the corporation had begun a slow descent; clients that had been with her from her meteoric rise began to flock to newer, more exclusive agencies.

Rachel chewed her pen thoughtfully while she scanned the notes from the previous board meeting. The board members had brought up strong suggestions of strengthening the business, unaware of what was occurring in the present climate. As she mulled the ideas in her head, she realized that alternative measures must be pursued if Berry Enterprises was to retain the stronghold on the industry it once possessed. As much as it pained her to acknowledge, she would have to seek outside help.

If the company needed the assistance of an outsider, she would support it. Still, she mused carefully, it would have to be an outsider who could be deemed trustworthy and possessed an impeccable background with strong character references. Flipping through the contacts on her computer, Rachel analyzed each name carefully. There were several strong ones, but each significantly lacking with the qualities she desired.

Frowning, her eye fell on Noah Puckerman. She had heard things about him, rather unsavory things. It was impossible to run in the circles she ran in, and not be aware of him. His reputation as a lothario was well-known; she had known many women who lacked common sense and had become involved with him, each convinced that she would be the one to tame him, to have the elusive ring on the right finger. Each time, to no surprise of Rachel's, he evaded the grasp of commitment, slithering out from their expectations. She continued to frown, her thoughts skipping to what his involvement would bring to her pristine corporation. Still, the man was well known for his professional expertise, even if she was unclear on what it was exactly that he did, and that matter was what carried the most significance to her.

Picking up the phone on her table, she hastily began to type in numbers. She only got as far as the first trio before slamming the phone back on its hook. She shook her head, pulling her Blackberry from the bag next to her. She would call him from her personal phone, a safe cover in the event the press received wind of the ordeal. If members of the media knew that she would be calling on Puckerrman for his help with her problem, her stocks would plummet. Well, further plummet, anyway.

Rachel dials the number before she has a chance to change her mind, her well manicured fingers tapping against the glass table. The phone rings and rings, finally transferring the call to voicemail. She hangs up, unconcerned with leaving a message.

This is a sign, Rachel thinks. A sign Berry Industries can be revived on its own. Yes, she nods. That is exactly it. She sighs, shuffling her belongings into her bag. She will go home, finish the newest bottle of wine from her cellar, and spend another sleepless night examining the situation. Walking out to her car, she fishes her keys from her bag.

Plopping inside, she rests her head against the seat, massaging her temples. She has never failed at anything before in her life, and she isn't going to begin now. She will survive this, she mentally chants to herself.

"You look stressed," says a voice behind her, causing her to whirl around, frightened at the intruder. Briefly, she wonders if she has her rape whistle in the glove compartment and if so, would it be loud enough for someone to hear her in the dimly lit garage? She knew she should have parked outside.

"What the hell are you doing in my car, Noah?" She places a hand to her heart, inhaling and exhaling to steady her breathing. The man nearly gave her a heart attack, and not in a positive way.

"How did you even get in?"

He ignores her question, his green eyes calming staring at her.

"That's a matter for another time, I'm afraid. We need to talk."

She gazes at him, confused by the unreadable expression in his eyes. His eyes are gorgeous, she thinks, no wonder so many women fall at his feet; those bedroom eyes are seductive. Mentally, she groans. She has to focus on the corporation, not imagining him in the bedroom.

"I know. That's why I called. As much as I detest admitting it, I'm rather needed of some assistance." She winces at the phrase. She has never been the type to seek help, even more so willingly. Even at the beginning of her business, she found it difficult to accept charity from her father's, even more so of the slightly fractured relationship that existed between them. She had disappointed them at the beginning of her college career, dropping her musical ambitions in favor of business. Such a shame to waste that voice, she remembers the echoes of their disapproval. Neither here nor there, she thinks. They're proud now, she consoles herself, proud of whom she has become and what she has managed to accomplish in such a relatively short time. It would be all for naught if the business goes under, she reminds herself. She shakes her head, snapping out of her memories, focusing on Noah in front of her.

"It's not safe to discuss business matters on the phone, Berry. You never know who may be listening in."

"Are you implying something?" Her eyes narrow at the underlying tension of his voice, wondering what he could know that she doesn't.

He shrugs, and she can only watch in amazement as he pulls out a business card from his pocket.

"Meet me at my place at eight. It's safer there. I hope I don't need to remind you to come alone but in case I do, come alone. We'll talk; there are things you need to know."

He opens the door, and walks out, leaving a dumbfounded Rachel in his wake. She flips the card between her fingers, wondering what just transpired.


End file.
